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lucythepoet
lucythepoet
20/F/West Sussex, England Poetry is the stored honey of the human soul.
The yonder above is forever bruised and opaque Reigning over glum faces Complexions washed with a bloodless shade of dispassion Robotic, disengaged. Material desires are quenched with vast shopping centres Credit Cards hold on for dear live As every last drop of sweet money is rinsed from that plastic rectangle. Living beyond our means Whilst simultaneously refusing to give up on Sky TV box sets and liquid lunches. Hooked to our phones, but not for telephone communication Rather, for self validation Defined by the click of a heart or pathetic thumb. The once friendly communities With blood coursing through their veins Are husks of their previous life form, gentrified beyond recognition. Filtered faces with protruding spines and modified features Infiltrate mass media Corrupting the definitions of success and beauty. Plastic personalities reign supreme Vacuous minded socialites profess women’s empowerment begins with the flaunting of skin Rather than the possession of a strong mind. Many bury their heads in the sand Residing in ignorance As mass genocides and civil wars manifest every second. Or worse, they read the TORYgraph and THE ****   Believing immigrants spawn white genocide And white conservatives suffer oppression. Pffft! I have deep contempt for those behind these ***** tabloids Murdoch and his monsters Orchestrating lies and bile Destroying lives or scaremongering the impressionable Committing the most savage, sycophantic crimes In order to extract Monday’s headline. I do not suffer fools Especially those who make up the tapestry of dystopia A failing age of doom.
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Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
Dystopia and Her Tragic Tapestry
The yonder above is forever bruised and opaque Reigning over glum faces Complexions washed with a bloodless shade of dispassion Robotic, disengaged. Material desires are quenched with vast shopping centres Credit Cards hold on for dear live As every last drop of sweet money is rinsed from that plastic rectangle. Living beyond our means Whilst simultaneously refusing to give up on Sky TV box sets and liquid lunches. Hooked to our phones, but not for telephone communication Rather, for self validation Defined by the click of a heart or pathetic thumb. The once friendly communities With blood coursing through their veins Are husks of their previous life form, gentrified beyond recognition. Filtered faces with protruding spines and modified features Infiltrate mass media Corrupting the definitions of success and beauty. Plastic personalities reign supreme Vacuous minded socialites profess women’s empowerment begins with the flaunting of skin Rather than the possession of a strong mind. Many bury their heads in the sand Residing in ignorance As mass genocides and civil wars manifest every second. Or worse, they read the TORYgraph and THE ****   Believing immigrants spawn white genocide And white conservatives suffer oppression. Pffft! I have deep contempt for those behind these ***** tabloids Murdoch and his monsters Orchestrating lies and bile Destroying lives or scaremongering the impressionable Committing the most savage, sycophantic crimes In order to extract Monday’s headline. I do not suffer fools Especially those who make up the tapestry of dystopia A failing age of doom.
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Transient summers, Forbidden Bluebell fields, Tough times symbolise the pouring of ales. Manicured lawns, Cider drinking Saturdays, Routine discussions about the sun and rain. Hijinx down the watering hole, The great unwashed congregating on Market Day, Smog penetrating the lungs, Forlorn eyes, social decay. Leaders of austerity, Riddled with oppressive policies, The tedious endurement of the morning commute. Sirens cut across Westminster, A quintessential rave anthem, Boxing Day sales, Sheer pandemonium. Revelling in satire, And curtain twitching, Reading racists newspapers, Disenfranchised youth. Icky dance floors with raging hormones, Breath heavy with hops and acrid tobacco. **** drops and winding waists, Ladies bathroom, evil eyes exchanged. Sundays spent hanging, And Mondays depressed, Holy communions, Cladded in your best dress. Suppressed thoughts, And baited breath An Albion filled with oppression and dread.
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Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
Albion
Secreted away in my den of peace, Blissfully falling into an undisturbed sleep. Cocooned in toasty linen blue sheets, Descending into deep serenity. The earths landscape stands statuesque and still, Long-limbed branches motionlessly tranquil. A heady winters breeze filled with festive pleasantries, The moon adorned with a crisp angelic glow. Charcoal clouds cruising across the hushed atmosphere, A transient moment free of stress and fear. A night filled with harmony and content, Shielding against any form of threat.
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Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 8:06 AM UTC
Sheltered
The bird song anchors my soul, Soothing any quiver of anxiety Keeping my ship stable and steady. Sweet shrills and cheery echoes soften my breath, As my limbs gently fall to rest. Innocent symphonies rippling through the air, Offering divine headspace Detoxifying unwanted bugbear. I'm at one with the earth Alive in the moment My stronghold of calm A serenity so potent. No drug can emulate this untarnished moment of peace A gratifying tension release. So pure and still I can hear the rise and fall of my chest, Like blissful waves lapping onto virginal marble sands.
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Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
Mindful